


the sound of my heart needs the sound of another heart

by momentofclarity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 80s AU, Confessions, First Love, Kissing, Last summer before changing schools, M/M, Summer, Swedish AU, Teenagers, and they're swedes, everything is in english though obviously hah, they are 15 years old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 06:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20041462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentofclarity/pseuds/momentofclarity
Summary: In the summer of '83, Louis is fifteen years old and in love.





	the sound of my heart needs the sound of another heart

**Author's Note:**

> this is inspired by swedish summer, swedish music and too many swedish references that probably only make sense to me. it's set in Sweden, but i don't think that's very noticable unless you know about it (which, i guess, you now do). the title is stolen from Gyllene Tider, which is as close to swedish summer as one could, perhaps, get. (good and bad)
> 
> thank you Nic, you're the best beta that's ever exsisted ever. i love you. 
> 
> a special thanks to Lisa and Jenny for being some of my favorite swedes, love you.

Louis swipes his fringe back from his forehead, the summer all too easily making it stick to his skin. Turning sideways, he considers his profile, Levi’s and new jean jacket on. He looks good but he wishes his hair had grown a little longer by now. It had just started getting to a good length in the back when his mum forced him to cut it before summer. Not much to do about it now. 

He pours out a bit of aftershave and massages it into his freshly shaven cheeks, at least he’s got that going for him. Just the fact that he now  _ has to shave _ makes him square his shoulders with something ridiculously close to pride. He rolls his eyes at himself and heads towards the door.

“Bye mum!” 

His mum comes out into the hallway just as he’s about to open the door. 

“When will you be back, sweetheart?” 

His belly flutters, because he doesn’t know. An endless row of possibilities paint the evening in a rush of hope. He shrugs. “I don’t know, might be staying at a friend’s.” 

“Just be home by lunch tomorrow, or I’ll call the police.” She gives him a wink and a smile, and Louis hurries up to give her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Promise!”

With that he’s out the door and grabs his bike lying thrown on the driveway. The wind blows through his hair as he pedals down the street and if he wasn’t in a hurry he might notice the scent of warm asphalt and lilac bushes. 

As it is, all he can focus on is the flutter in his stomach growing stronger the further he gets from his childhood home and the closer he gets to his destination. 

He spots them once he rounds the corner of Johnson’s Electronics. 

In the summer, the kids from his school gather outside the supermarket. The older kids spread out over the benches while the younger ones ride around on their bikes, wanting so desperately to be part of the clique with red Marlboro’s tucked between pink-painted lips. He knows because just a couple years ago that was him and his friends. Not now though. 

“Ey, Tommo!” his best friend Niall shouts at him and Louis rides over, shoving his bike against the fence and running a hand through his fringe again. He looks at Niall with determination, forcing his gaze not to wander through the crowd. 

If  _ he’s _ here, Louis will know soon enough. 

“Hi, what’s happening?” He grabs Niall’s hand and gives him a pat on the back. 

“Rosanne is here.” Niall waggles his eyebrows, tongue sticking out. 

Louis laughs, knows how he’s supposed to feel about that, knows what’s expected of him even if he couldn’t care less. Rosanne is pretty, but she spends the majority of English class acting like she’s Actually British just because she’s got cousins in England. She’s a snob and a know-it-all, but Louis  _ knows _ — “Too bad she won’t look twice at you either way.” 

Niall smacks the back of his head but grins. “You’ll see, I just haven’t showed her all the ways I’m perfect for her yet.”

Louis shakes his head and brings out his cigarettes from his back pocket, offering Niall and the others perched on the same bench. He struggles with the lighter like he seemingly always does, as if his mom had put a spell on it to remind him she Does Not Approve. 

“Here.” 

That slightly wavering velvet voice instantly sends goosebumps down Louis’ neck, a flickering flame showing up in his periphery. He turns to look up at the person offering it to him.

Harry’s curls are long and unruly and he’s dressed in a grey jumper and high-waisted light wash jeans. His lips are so pink it looks like he borrowed a lipstick from one of the girls, but Louis knows  _ they’re just like that.  _ Always pink, always plush and  _ oh so often  _ stretched in a wide grin, his dimples deep.

“Thanks,” Louis says with a nod, cheeks flushing as he wills his hands not to shake. 

He needs to lean in closer, can smell Harry’s fresh sweat and apple bodywash as he puts his cigarette to the flame. Harry’s hand, big and clumsy, comes up to cover the flame from the breeze and their fingers graze. 

When their eyes meet, Louis gets stuck, watching the light from the streetlight above reflect that green glint, all golden and infinite. 

Harry tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and Louis’ breath catches. There’s a line of breakouts at Harry’s temple, just where a curl is clutching to his skin with perspiration. Louis’ heart thunders. Even if Harry’s just a fifteen-year-old boy, all long awkward limbs and a bit of stubble on his upper lip, he’s the prettiest thing Louis has ever seen. 

Their little universe is interrupted as Zayn and Liam ride up to them on their bikes, sliding on the asphalt as they come to a stop. 

“Tommy’s parents are out of town, he’s throwing a party,” Zayn says and Liam nods enthusiastically. 

“And Sara nicked booze from her uncle, let’s go!” They both grin and Louis’ belly sinks a little.

Most nights they just stay out here, the summer slow like soft serve drying up in the sun. Always on the brink of opportunity, of looks exchanged between Yamaha FS1’s and frizzy perms. But then once in a while someone will have an unoccupied summer house or parents out of town. 

Louis doesn’t like the uncertainty of how these nights will end. 

Sometimes it’s all fine, he sips a drink pretending it’s his fourth or fifth refilling, Harry laughing at his jokes and all warm against his side. But sometimes he gets lost in the crowd and Louis spends the rest of the night alone on the sofa, watching as his friends slow dance to Bonnie Tyler and snog against the staircase banister. 

He hopes this isn’t one of those nights.

“You up for it?” Harry asks, elbowing him softly in the side and something in his eyes makes Louis nod without thinking. 

“Yeah, sure.”

\---

His thoughts are racing along with his heart beating wildly in his chest as Harry’s wide hands clutch at his sides, fingers just  _ so  _ sliding under his jeans jacket and warming him through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. 

With Harry’s cheek resting against his back, long legs nearly skidding through the gravel as he rides on the back of Louis’ bike, Louis feels as though anything is possible. The look in Harry’s eyes makes his fears feel like tiny details and as if the world encompasses the entire universe. 

All those things that he’s always had to carry on his own, no longer feel like such a burden. That heavy something around his heart, the lump of shame in his throat, a longing to get away, to know what everyone else is talking about when they talk about a  _ crazy little thing called love.  _

He’s weak in the knees, breath coming out in short huffs even though he’s spent the majority of spring on the football field. 

Then Harry’s fingers touch skin underneath jeans and cotton.

Surrounded by their friends, loud and louder as they ride through the familiar neighbourhoods, the touch is a secret. Something sacred, a touch against skin that has never before been touched by anyone else. Not like this. Like a secret and a revelation all at once. 

“Let’s take a turn after the incline.”

Harry’s voice is just a rough whisper against the back of Louis’ neck and as goosebumps spread up into his hairline, Louis turns his head just so. “Why?”

He’s been focused on getting them to the party in one piece, of not crashing the bike, of not letting the flush in his cheeks get too noticeable, and Harry’s request throws him off. 

The only answer he gets is a wide, warm palm settling fully against the curve of his hip, hidden under the cover of his jacket, and Louis’ breath comes out shaky and deep. “Alright,” he says as he throws a look around, trying to think of a way to get away unnoticed. 

Maybe Harry already had it figured out, but as their friends speed up their bikes or race by them on mopeds, Louis is forced to skid to a halt. 

Niall cackles at him, “You weak or something?” and Liam gives his shoulder a smack as him and Zayn ride past. 

Louis throws them the finger with a grin and whips his head to keep his fallen fringe out of his eyes. “You try riding up there with a giraffe on the back!” 

The moment the words left his mouth, his cheeks heat up and he throws a worried look at Harry, hoping he’s not offended. Harry looks at him with a small smile, cheeks rosy, but eyes bright. Not hurt then. The rhythm of Louis’ heart picks up another notch. 

“We’ll catch up with you!” Louis yells at them as him and Harry start walking, the crowd thinning out and eventually leaving them alone.

Just like Harry suggested, they turn onto the small road at the top of the hill, asphalt fading into gravel as the trees grow thicker on both sides. The sound of their feet and the bike is almost deafening in the silence of summer night. Louis is pretty sure this is the that road leads to where the rich kids have summer houses down by the lake, but it’s not like it matters where the road ends. He doesn’t think they’ll make it there. 

When he can no longer spot the intersection over his shoulder, Louis parks his bike at the side of the road. Harry stops beside him and when their eyes meet, he lets out a deep breath. Like he’s been holding his breath with longing, just as Louis has. 

“Hi,” Harry says, dimple wavering in his cheek. 

Louis leans against the saddle of his bike, heart beating away and want dropping like an anchor in his belly. “Hi,” he says, trembling fingers picking the cigarette pack out of his pocket. 

Harry’s lighter is there without him having to ask, and the tip of his cigarette burns like amber. 

“How’s your holiday been so far?”

Louis can’t help grinning, and he arches an eyebrow. “You mean the whole week and a half?” 

Harry shakes out his curls, long fingers pulling that mop of hair away from his face. “Yeah, I mean… I haven’t seen you since…”

Since lilacs decorated the pews of the church and Rosanne sang the solo slightly out of tune. When his sisters got to pick cones from the ice cream poster’s top row and Louis did his best not to wrinkle up the envelope with his grades. The night when instead of joining the others by the lake, Harry had kissed him for hours in his basement. Orange corduroy against the heat of their skin and Louis tasting every last inch he could reach. 

He hasn’t seen the sparkle in Harry’s eyes since that night and even though it hasn’t been that long, he needs to stop himself from reaching out to touch. 

“I’ve been working.” Louis looks down at his feet. “Didn’t know if you… I don’t get off until late and I didn’t know if you—”

“I did, I do,” Harry interrupts him and shuffles closer. “I always want to see you.”

Louis looks up to meet the green sparkle of those eyes, the soft sincerity of Harry’s statement almost making him choke. It’s so much more than he ever dared to wish for. 

Ever since seventh grade when Harry caught him staring one too many times, when he got a note in his locker to stay late after gym class. When Harry—young, brave and brighter than anything—pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hard, teeth cutting into lips and hands fumbling. 

All he ever dared to hope for was just that. Hands and tongues and thighs rubbed sore. 

In the past few months something seems to have shifted though. The way Harry looks at him is no longer just hungry, but desperate with something else, and more than anything Louis hopes that it’s an answer to his own wishes. 

This is the last summer before they’re off to different schools. Louis staying at the local high school and Harry will take the bus to the next town over. There will be new people, new  _ boys _ neither of them have ever met before, and with each day that passes Louis has grown desperate with the need to crawl under Harry’s skin. To attach himself to Harry’s core so that he won’t be put aside for someone new and shiny. 

They’ve never exchanged promises, never said those words that all to often want to crawl up and out of Louis’ throat, and so the hours they’ve spent curled up against each other, the whispers hot against the shell of an ear, seem too terrifyingly fragile. 

“You do?” He steps closer too. So close that he can pick out the freckles on Harry’s skin, the sweet scent of his breath. The cigarette is burning out and he drops it to the ground, grinding out the glow with his shoe.

Harry’s hand comes up to the lapel of his jacket, fingers tracing along the coppery buttons. With a final deep breath, Harry falls forward, letting himself be caught by Louis as his head falls to Louis’ shoulder. His breath is warm and wet against Louis’ neck. 

“Will you forget about me?” Harry asks and Louis puts a hand at his nape, the other searching to tangle with Harry’s fingers.

“I don’t think I ever could.” He hates the thickness in his throat, but he can’t seem to help it, can’t swallow it down. 

“Don’t just say that if you don’t mean it.” 

Louis can’t help but smile at the stubborn whine, and he nuzzles into Harry’s curls, a touch of courage coursing through him. “I mean it—you’re  _ all _ I think about.” 

Harry pulls away enough to look him in the eyes, lips curling sweetly and pink blotches covering his cheeks. “I don’t want this to end, I don’t want this to be the last summer we have.” 

This time, Louis doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch. He covers Harry’s heated cheek with the palm of his hand, thumbing into the dip of his dimple. “Then it won’t be.”

Harry’s lips are soft and wet, always leaving Louis feeling like he might be dreaming. Like reality couldn’t possibly feel so good, that the slide of a tongue against his couldn’t possibly be cause for the insistent heat building between his thighs. 

Those wide hands hold him tightly, travel up and under, always searching for skin to dig their nails into and Louis presses closer to show how much he wants it too. The fabric of Harry’s sweater is smooth against his cheek as he kisses along the neckline, teeth grinding slowly against collar bone. 

The trees have turned a purply blue, the air still humid but allowing a breeze to caress their shared heat. Louis catches Harry’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulls, earning a small whine. Harry’s eyes flutter beneath the shiny cover of his eyelids. 

“Come back to mine,” Harry says, slowly opening his eyes with a flutter of dark lashes. His lips are swollen and shiny, a curl sticks to his sweaty brow, and Louis answers him by pushing closer yet again. His nose caressing against the cut of his jawbone. 

“Alright.”

Their friends and that party are long forgotten as they get back on Louis’ bike, wind singing in their ears as they roll down, back towards the silent streets and backyards littered with footballs and water guns. 

Harry’s hands are once again curled over his hips, fingers harsh against his hip bones, and Louis feels alive. Summer endless and future terrifying but at a safe distance. He thinks ridiculously that he’s got time. That he still has weeks and weeks to make sure he’s not too easily forgotten, that Harry’s heart is as forever changed as his is. 

Where trembling fumbling against the trees down by the river or behind tightly shut doors mean more than just teenage curiosity. Where curiosity is bleeding into want and longing so blindingly strong it will surely never leave. 

Harry’s heavy breath through the fabric of his jacket, the tickle of curls against the nape of his neck and the summer is never ending. 

The sound of Harry’s heart beats along with his.  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed ❤
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr.](http://gaycousinlarry.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And here's a tumblr post if you want to [reblog.](https://gaycousinlarry.tumblr.com/post/186654798033/the-sound-of-my-heart-needs-the-sound-of-another) Thank you!


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